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Exploring the conflicts of ones idea of self image. Their or our image in society and the reflection of chasing empty ideas.
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediatelyJust as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.I am not cruel, only truthful —The eye of a little god, four-cornered.Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so longI think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is.Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes.Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old womanRises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
Sylvia Plath